The Hour Before
June thirtieth. It's 5:47 a.m. and I know that because I looked at the clock on the microwave, not because I set an alarm for it. Gerald's vine is grazing the kitchen shelf the wa…
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18 entries tagged #slowmorning.
The Counter Versus the Sill
March third. The object has been on the counter for six weeks. I know this because I put it there on a specific January morning and I have looked at it every single day since, whi…
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Close Enough
October fifth. The sweater was already on before I decided the sweater was the answer. That's how Tuesday went. I've been thinking about the Carol postcard, it's been on the count…
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The Thing Carol Said in Passing
August eleventh. Carol's postcard has been sitting on the kitchen counter for a little over two weeks. I haven't moved it to the windowsill. I haven't replied. I haven't even turn…
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What I Didn't Take a Picture Of
June sixth. It happened again. I made something new for breakfast, not the stock, not anything Simone-adjacent, just a thing I had not made before, a savory situation involving eg…
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The Tea Went Cold Twice
May fifteenth. Mother's Day. I didn't plan to write anything today. I made tea at eight-something and sat down at the kitchen table with a vague intention to do something producti…
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The One Sentence
April twenty-third. I looked it up. That's the sentence. I wrote it in my notebook first, which felt absurd, and then I typed it here, which felt more honest. The tab is still ope…
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The Air Changed Yesterday
March first. I was on my way back from the corner, I'd gone out for nothing urgent, just to move, the way you do after a February that sat on you, and somewhere between the mailbo…
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The Window Was Already Open
May nineteenth. At some point around seven I woke up and the apartment smelled different. Not bad-different, not something-is-wrong-different, just the specific smell of air that…
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The Honey Jar Argument
January twenty-first. The farmers market runs year-round, which sounds admirable until you are standing under a half-open canopy at eight-forty in the morning in January and the t…
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The Longest Three Weeks of Absolutely Nothing
November eighteenth. I have been telling myself I wasn't thinking about it. This is a thing I am apparently capable of doing for an impressive stretch of time, about three weeks,…
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Two Sentences Back
May twenty-eighth. Carol's card has been on my kitchen counter for eleven days. I know it's eleven because I counted on Thursday and then felt slightly unhinged about having count…
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Rectangles and Pie
Thanksgiving. The apartment smells like butter, which is probably the best thing an apartment can smell like at nine in the morning. I had the sketchbook out earlier, I don't know…
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Rectangles, Mostly
October arrived with the particular rudeness of a month that looks beautiful from the window and is actually cold the second you open the door. I have been inside a lot. I opened…
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What Handwriting Looks Like
I read it. That's the thing I keep coming back to, the fact of having read it, more than what it said. I'm not going to quote it here. I don't think I could, even if I wanted to.…
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The Cold Is Just Standing There
There is a specific kind of February morning where the light comes in grey and flat and the window fogs at the bottom and you stand there with your coffee for too long just lookin…
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One Bunch of Tulips for No Reason
It was the kind of cold where your ears go numb before you've made it half a block, and I went to the farmers market anyway. Not because I needed anything. There was nothing on a…
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Two Cups and a Lesson in Not Walking Away from the Toaster
It's barely past eight and I have already made one fundamental error this morning. I walked away from the toaster. I know. I know. In my defense, the coffee maker beeped and I got…
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